


Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold

by anisstaranise



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Book Adaptation, Dark Magic, Death, Dwarves, M/M, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:05:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4491213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anisstaranise/pseuds/anisstaranise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was well aware of the Sleeping Curse; he fell under it when he was younger after taking a bite out of an apple poisoned by his malicious stepmother. He had slept for a whole year. </p><p>He thought that was the last time he would ever encounter the curse but one more powerful was currently sweeping through the land.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This is a loose adaptation of **Neil Gaiman** 's _The Sleeper and the Spindle._
> 
> Written for Seblaine Week 2015. Days 2 + 6: Book AU + Fairytale Retelling.

The hooves of the four horses stomped the ground, flattening the meadow’s grass in its wake. He trailed behind the three dwarf companions thundering ahead as they headed towards The Tunnels in the mountains.

His father, the King had died a tragic death many a year ago and as successor, he ruled the Kingdom of Westende. He knew every inch of the terrain by heart.

The mountains, however, were the dwarves’ territory. It was the dwarves who had dug the Tunnels under the mountains that led to the neighbouring kingdom of Súþdæl for their trading needs.

The two kingdoms did not have a diplomatic tie for they were separated by the perilous mountain range. No one could climb over it and there weren’t any passages that went around it.

Humans weren’t allowed access through the Tunnels by the dwarves’ laws.

But he was an exception.

“This way, Your Majesty,” said the tallest of the dwarves.

The dwarves had names, of course, but they weren’t to be spoken by the human tongue.

And he had a name, too, although these days, everyone only addressed him as Your Majesty- except for the oldest of the dwarves.

“Not much longer now, Sebastian,” said the oldest dwarf. “The Sleeping Curse is fast approaching the west kingdom. We must make haste.”

Sebastian was well aware of the Sleeping Curse; he fell under it when he was younger after taking a bite out of an apple poisoned by his malicious stepmother. He had slept for a whole year.

It was the oldest dwarf, with the help of six others, who had taken care of him and guarded the chamber where he slept. He had only woken up upon his stepmother’s death at the hands of the dwarves.

He thought that was the last time he would ever encounter the curse but one more powerful was currently sweeping through the land.

Word had reached the three dwarves that a Sleeping Curse had been steadily devouring the villages on the outskirts of Westende, putting everyone to sleep- and the curse’s grasp had been slowly expanding, heading straight for the heart of Westende.

Other dwarves had recounted the tale that The Kingdom of Súþdæl had fallen under the Sleeping Curse decades ago and all its subjects had been sleeping since. It wasn’t until the rise of the new moon several nights prior that the curse started making its way across the bordering mountain range.

The dwarves weren’t affected; they were creatures of magic, invulnerable to such a curse. The oldest dwarf had sought an audience with Sebastian and had asked for his help to investigate the source of the curse, the reason why it had breached the kingdom’s borders and to find a way to put an end to it.

They finally reached the Tunnel’s entrance at sundown. By then, Sebastian was exhausted, having endured a full day’s ride.

“I need to rest,” he said as the entourage dismounted their horses.

The bald dwarf looked bothered by Sebastian’s statement. “What if the curse gets to you? What if you sleep and never wake up?”

He thumped a hand on the bald dwarf’s shoulder in an effort to assuage his companion’s concern. “My stepmother’s curse has made me resistant to such magic- although I doubt it was ever her intention to provide me with such immunity.”

Sebastian then relieved his horse of his satchel and arranged it by the mouth of the Tunnel to pillow his head. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep, restlessly dreaming of stars and rotting apples.

Just before the break of dawn, Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open. He found three sets of eyes regarding him carefully, the stars twinkling brightly against the dark sky above them. The bald dwarf heaved a sigh of relief upon seeing him awake.

The oldest dwarf gave him a small smile before stomping on the fire that had provided heat for most of the night.

“We must leave now,” the tallest dwarf said. “The horses are of no use to us.”

It was then that Sebastian realized that their horses had succumbed to the Sleeping Curse. They were upright, half chewing on the carrots that he had laid out for them before turning in for the night but were fast asleep- their breathing slow and even.

With a pat on the mane of his trusted mare, Sebastian bid her goodbye and followed the dwarves into the Tunnels.

It was late morning when they finally emerged on the other side of the mountain, in the lands of Súþdæl.

And the sun was hanging lowly in the west when they reached the ghostly kingdom’s court.

They could see the castle towering over the land at the edge of town and Sebastian’s heart sank at the sight; the castle was surrounded by tall walls and every inch of the wall and the ground below it were covered in thorns.

The castle seemed impregnable.

A movement caught Sebastian’s attention as they passed the town square where hundreds of the kingdom’s subjects were asleep. Some were lying at awkward angles, possibly walking about before the curse blanketed the land, causing them to fall asleep where they were. The baker had half his face in dough that was now hardened and covered in mold while the butcher lay asleep amongst rotting meat.

He convinced himself that it was his imagination; they were in a town full of sleeping people- no one moved save for their even breathing.

But there it was again- a movement too slow, too stretched, too meant.

It took them awhile to realize that the sleeping people were waking up. No, they were _moving_ , but they weren’t _awake_.

“How are they moving?” asked the bald dwarf nervously, drawing his axe.

“Our presence must have triggered another aspect of the curse,” he said, stepping away from a milkmaid who was reaching for him.

All of the sleeping subjects were moving in one direction- towards them.

They stepped gingerly along the path heading towards the castle, mindful of the clutches of the sleeping mob.

Panic rose in his chest when suddenly a hand closed around his neck, its grip too strong for someone asleep. Someone- _something_ must be controlling them.

Sebastian tried to pry the sleeping man’s fingers from his throat as the dwarves tried to pull the man away- but to no avail. His vision started to swim and the air thinned in his lungs. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. They were unarmed, defenceless.

But it was getting harder to breathe and he could feel himself losing consciousness. He had no choice.

Swiftly, Sebastian reached for his sword and effortlessly sliced through the man’s flesh and bones. Two dismembered arms fell heavily upon the ground with a sickening thud. But the man didn’t seem affected, as if he didn’t feel pain. Even without his arms, he kept coming towards Sebastian.

“To the castle. Run, now,” Sebastian bellowed.

The four of them bounded hastily towards the castle walls, the sleeping mob slow but not far behind.

They soon reached the thick barrier of thorns. Amidst them where skeletons dressed in full armour, their kingdom’s crest emblazoned on their chest; these were the fallen fellows who had tried- and failed to enter the castle.

“So what they say is true,” said the oldest dwarf, his eyes fixated on the many corpses adorning the vines.

“What is?” Sebastian asked as he continued to look for an opening to perhaps climb his way up. He found none, the thorns too long and sharp and the vines- although old and brittle- too thick.

“They say that a fair maiden was cursed to sleep for decades- perhaps a century- and only a kiss by he who triumphs over the obstacles on his way to her can end her slumber.”

A kiss.

Sebastian’s thoughts were flooded by the face of his fiancé, waiting patiently for him and for their wedding day. He respected and adored her, but he didn’t love her the way he was meant to.

Nevertheless, he would marry her; the needs of his kingdom came before his own.

He loved his kingdom and his duties, he loved his subjects. He would always put them first.

That was how he decided that if a kiss was needed to break this curse, then he would do it without hesitation.

His fingers curled around the decaying fabric of a dead knight’s tunic and immediately thought of a way to get over the wall.

He ripped the clothes off the skeleton as the bones rattled to the ground. He tied the fabric around as much of the vines as he could and asked for the oldest dwarf’s tinder box.

The tunic and thorns were old and rotting and it caught fire easily. In minutes, there was a charred path up the wall where Sebastian the dwarves climbed over easily.

They were just about to step into the castle’s hall when a loud creaking echoed through the room. The creaking was followed by the sounds of metal hitting the cobbled floor. It was evenly-paced; like marching footsteps.

Dread tingled down Sebastian’s spine. The mob was close, perhaps.

Suddenly, the forms of sleeping, armoured guards appeared from all corners of the hall, their heads lolled under the weight of their helmet, their swords raised half heartedly but no less threatening.

Sebastian and the dwarves were surrounded. There were too many to fight off- they would never survive. They needed to retreat.

His eyes quickly scanned for a way out; only the path up a winding staircase was free of the sleeping soldiers. He then signalled for the dwarves to follow him before sprinting up the steps.

The staircase seemed never ending.

When they finally reached a tiny landing at the top of the stairs, there was a narrow pathway that led to an old wooden door. He threw a cautious glance over his shoulder, relieved to find that his dwarf companions were close behind him.

Metal footsteps echoed throughout the stairwell- the sleeping soldiers were making their way up. To go through the door was their only choice.

Sebastian slowly treaded towards the door and curling his fist around the handle. The brass was warm to the touch; someone had recently held it.

But who? Everyone in the kingdom was asleep.

Carefully, he pushed the door open, the wooden panel creaking at the hinges.

Immediately, his eyes fell upon the sleeping figure upon a luxurious bed that looked as soft as clouds. The dwarves flanked either side of him. They, too, were mesmerized by the sleeping beauty.

She was beautiful; her hair was dark and rich, her skin smooth and creamy, her lips luscious and pink.

In their distraction, neither Sebastian nor the dwarves paid attention to the figure fast approaching them from behind.

When Sebastian finally sensed the presence, it was too late- there was a dagger placed upon his throat.

“Leave now,” the voice rumbled. It was that of a man, rough and aged.

“We’re here to help,” Sebastian said, raising his hands in surrender. “We’re here to end the curse.”

“There is no end to this curse,” the man hissed.

But despite the animosity, the man released his hold on Sebastian and withdrew the dagger.

Sebastian clutched his throat, massaging the soreness left earlier by the sleeping man’s grip and tracing the slight cut where the man’s dagger broke his skin.

He turned to face the voice, surprised to find an old man- wrinkled and hunched under a head of silver hair- staring at him. The old man’s grip had been strong and firm.

But it was the old man’s eyes that stole Sebastian’s attention; a glistening cataract glazed over the tint of brown but there was youth in those eyes. It didn’t make sense, but he could see it in them. He couldn’t quite explain it.

“What do you mean there is no end to this curse?” Sebastian asked, turning back to the sleeping form upon the silk sheets. Everything about her and the room were in pristine condition. Did the curse preserve all these things or was it the old man’s doing?

“Even if she wakes, it doesn’t end for me,” the old man said woefully.

“Who are you?” asked the oldest dwarf.

The old man snapped to attention, as if he had just realized he was in the presence of four strangers, his eyes had a faraway look. “I am the keeper of this kingdom as it sleeps.”

Sebastian regarded the old man carefully. There was so much sadness in his voice, so much loneliness. He thought being under the Sleeping Curse was a misery but to be the only one awake for decades as everyone else slept sounded like a much more agonizing curse.

“I shall end this,” he whispered as he rounded the bed to sit next to the maiden. “I shall end this for everyone- for you,” he said, looking at the old man. Drawn by those eyes, an unexplainable feeling of responsibility bloomed in his chest; he felt as it was his duty, his destiny to end the curse.

The old man nodded but stayed silent.

Slowly, Sebastian leaned in towards the sleeping maiden. He traced her pink-tinted lips with his thumb before brushing the lightest of kisses upon them. He held his breath as he pulled away.

They waited.

A moment passed.

Nothing happened.

Sebastian felt his heart sink to his feet when suddenly-

The sleeping beauty gasped sharply like she had been starved for air, like coming up for breath after being underwater for so long.

Her golden brown eyes shone bright as her lids fluttered open and eagerly took in her surroundings.

Sebastian raised himself off the bed as the maiden smiled up at him. His stomach churned at the sight; there was something familiarly wicked and sinister about the smile.

“Who do I thank for waking me from my slumber?” she asked, her voice seductive and smooth, looking to each of their faces.

“It’s over. You’re safe now,” Sebastian said instead.

A cold laugh tumbled past her pink lips. “My dear boy, when was I ever in danger?”

The maiden then rose from the bed and walked to the slit in the tower’s wall that overlooked the town square.

“Aaah, my pretties. They’re up,” she said lovingly.

Sebastian briskly walked to another one of the slits and looked down; the sleeping subjects- hundreds of them- were all slowly making their way into the castle, their path miraculously clear of the forest of thorns.

“What is going on?” asked the bald dwarf, his axe already in hand.

“This was all her doing,” said a small voice from the corner of the room. It was the old man.

“What?”

“One day long ago, my father told me this kingdom was mine to rule- that it was my birth right and destiny. I didn’t want it,” the old man drawled. “So I ran up here to the tower. It was my safe place.”

Sebastian turned at the sound of the maiden’s chuckle.

“I found an old woman standing over a spinning wheel in this room,” the old man continued. “She offered me a chance to be free of my father, of my duties. She offered me the chance to roam freely without the constant gaze of the kingdom- if only I would prick my finger on this spindle,” he said as he held up a spindle so sharp the tip gleamed in the remnants of the sunlight creeping through the tower’s slits. There was a thread attached to it; one end tied securely around the spindle’s base, the other wound around the old man’s wrist, like a shackle.

“You were so desperate for freedom,” she snarled, that blood-curdling smile still etched on her lips. “And so I gave it to you.”

The dwarves moved into a defensive stance, their bodies turned cautiously to the maiden.

The old man sighed. “I was young, barely eighteen. So I did what she told me to. Before my eyes, the old woman... changed, like her youth was restored. Then I saw my hands change,” he said, staring down at the hands before him, as if he was reliving the moment. “I was... old, like the old woman and I switched places.”

“My powers were draining,” the maiden said lazily, combing her raven-black hair with her fingers. “I needed to restore them, I needed to rest. But I needed energy, I needed youth. And you-,” she pointed to the old man with a slender finger. “- you were perfect. You had everything I promised you- your chance to freely roam the land, away from your father’s prying eyes.”

“You cursed them all to suffer!” the old man yelled, his hands shaking with anger.

The maiden laughed, icy and vile.

It was then that Sebastian realized why the maiden had seemed so familiar.

“Why go through all this trouble, Your Darkness?” Sebastian asked, addressing the maiden the way he had once heard a knight address his stepmother.

The maiden’s face lit up; she was amused. She stepped closer to Sebastian and dipped her face to run her nose along his jawline. It took everything he had not to flinch.

“You are not of our blood,” she purred, “-but there is magic under your skin. How?”

“Why go through all this trouble?” Sebastian repeated, ignoring the maiden’s question and the discomfort of knowing his stepmother’s vile magic was still imbedded in him.

“I needed subjects to rule when I was ready to wake up,” she explained, her tone bored.

“Surely Your Darkness is powerful enough to conquer a kingdom without hassle,” he said, trying his best to understand her reasons.

The maiden laughed again, something equally as blood-curdling as before. “I needed power if I wanted to take over the Sisterhood, to be their Queen. Why would I want subjects that have conscious thoughts and free will when I can have an army of sleeping puppets?”

“Those people are innocent!” the bald dwarf shouted angrily, charging towards the maiden.

With a flick of her hand, she sent the bald dwarf flying across the room, his body hitting the wall with a loud thud. He groaned in pain and slowly tried to climb to his feet.

“Enough of you,” she hissed and cast a spell over the dwarves. It took really powerful magic to subdue magical creatures such as the dwarves but Sebastian’s supposed a decade of sleep, steadily reaping and building her powers made her powerful enough. Almost instantly, the dwarves fell asleep.

She smiled at the sight of the crumpled dwarves before turning her attention back to Sebastian. “You’re special,” she breathed, curling her fingers under his chin. “I shall make you mine. You won’t rule with me, but beneath me. You will still rule- oversee continents and farther kingdoms.”

The maiden then crashed their lips together, the feel of her tongue caressing his, her pressure alternating between soft and forceful made his head spin.

“All will love me,” she purred against his lips when they pulled apart, her finger caressing his face. “-and you who woke me will love me most of all.”

There was a haziness trying to engulf Sebastian’s mind, he was starting to get sleepy. “Yes, Your Darkness,” he whispered involuntarily.

“You’ve taken enough from me,” the old man bellowed, but neither the maiden nor Sebastian paid him any mind. “You will not take any more from anyone else.”

The old man then lunged forward and plunged the spindle deep into the maiden’s chest.

In an instant, Sebastian’s head cleared. He saw the maiden’s face twist in horror, her eyes wild with surprise, her pristine silk gown stained red over her heart.

The thread connecting the spindle and the old man’s wrist started to glow bright gold; it was so blinding that Sebastian was forced to look away.

But Sebastian couldn’t look away for long; he was drawn by all that was unfolding before him.

The maiden’s hair turned white, starting at her roots down to her tips, her skin shrivelled and desiccated as the knobs of her bones jutted underneath it, her withered lips curled around a silent scream.

There was disbelief in her ghostly eyes; she had underestimated the old man- presuming him to be too weak or too broken by the years of loneliness to ever think of going against her. But alas, he did- it was too late for her now.

Sebastian couldn’t move, too astonished with the transformations of the maiden who was now slowly turning into an old woman while the old man’s skin stretched firm over his flesh, the glazed cataract made way for the shine of bright hazel eyes, his silver locks gracefully coiling into dark curls.

He was beautiful.

Suddenly, the old maid convulsed uncontrollably, hovering a few feet off the ground. Her body glowed gold like the thread and grew brighter and brighter until there was an intense burst of light. Sebastian closed his eyes tight and shielded his face from the glow.

He felt a powerful pulse radiate throughout the room, down the bricks of the castle and over the lands of the kingdom.

When he opened his eyes, the old maid was no more.

 

\---

The moon shone brightly above, the sky glowing dark blue in its light. Everywhere throughout Súþdæl, people were slowly waking up from their cursed slumber, dazed and confused.

Sebastian and the dwarves, along with the man from the tower stood atop a hill at the edge of the kingdom, looking down at the cottages illuminated by the glow of the burning fireplace as tendrils of smoke curled out of the chimneys; the villages and towns, all the way up to the castle were slowly coming to life.

The dwarves turned to begin their journey down to the Tunnels, while the man hung back, uncertain of his next step.

“Where will you go now, Blaine?” Sebastian asked the man, revelling in the way the name felt on his tongue. The moment the man had introduced himself, Sebastian found himself marvelling at the name.

Blaine; a beautiful name befitting a beautiful person.

“It was my fault the curse fell upon the land,” Blaine lamented. “I can’t go back.”

Sebastian nodded, only offering his silence. He understood the shame; he, too, felt responsible for all the horrible things that happened in the year he was asleep, including his father’s death.

But it _wasn’t_ his fault, he knew that now. One day, Blaine will learn to accept that the curse upon Súþdæl wasn’t his fault either.

“The gates of Westende are always open to you- should you seek a place for new beginnings,” Sebastian offered sincerely, extending his hand to Blaine. “You might not realize it but you saved all those lives- you saved mine.”

Blaine regarded Sebastian’s hand cautiously. He knew the other man didn’t expect to survive after stabbing the maiden, ready to die alongside the one who stole so much from him. He was a saviour, even if he didn’t feel like one- and there was always a place for courageous, selfless saviours in Westende.

Moments passed before Blaine finally reached out to accept Sebastian’s hand, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I could use a new beginning in a new place.”

Sebastian smiled and gestured for Blaine to follow the dwarves’ trail. “After you.”

The other man chuckled shyly, his curls attractively fluttering in the night breeze, his eyes catching the shine of the speckled stars; Blaine was breathtaking.

Sebastian didn’t realize he had been staring until Blaine moved forward to close the distance between them. Slowly, the other man raised himself on his toes and brushed his lips against Sebastian’s. It was a chaste kiss, one laced with a quiet _Thank you_. The touch was brief but it ignited something fervid within- he wanted more.

Without hesitation, Sebastian leaned down to capture Blaine’s lips again, deepening the kiss. The feelings he felt were new and terrifying, but it was right- it was something that had been missing all his life, now found.

They broke apart, both smiling earnestly.

Sebastian then tugged at Blaine’s hand and together they trudged down the dwarves’ trail, heading towards a new beginning.

 

\---END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Comments welcomed.


End file.
